


Sink Me in the River

by stingings



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Brothers, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Love, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 11:45:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stingings/pseuds/stingings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amon has won, Korra is gone, and Mako can't seem to deal with it all. (a sort of prequel to Like You're Never Coming Back)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sink Me in the River

For the first week after it’s happened, Mako doesn’t speak to anyone. The city is overrun. Amon brought it under his control virtually overnight, although in retrospect, he’s probably been chipping away at its core for years. Some are praising it for being an almost bloodless coup. For Mako, almost isn’t good enough.  
Almost doesn’t bring Korra back.   
The apartment that they’re hiding in cramped and dirty, and Mako can barely breathe when he’s in it. He wants to burn it all to the ground, and maybe himself with it. Bolin tells him not to go out; there are Equalists crawling all over the streets nearby. Mako doesn’t say anything. He lets Bolin sleep a little easier, thinking his older brother is safe and hidden.   
Every night, as Bolin’s stifled cries fade away as he falls asleep, Mako creeps from the apartment and moves quietly from roof to roof, until he gets to the waterfront. It’s swarming with Equalists down below him, and he does his best to stay hidden. Every night, he lies on his stomach, staring out at the place where lights should be coming from on Air Temple Island. There’s only darkness. By the time it’s beginning to get light out, Mako can see the smoke still rising from the smoldering remains of the Air Temple, hanging over it in a grim reminder of what has happened.   
Every morning when he gets back, Bolin is still asleep. There’s nothing that they have to do, so Mako lets him sleep. When he does wake up, he looks at Mako guiltily, as if it’s somehow his fault that this all happened, that his older brother can’t seem to find it within himself to speak, that everything they love is gone from them. That once again, they’re left only with each other.   
He should be grateful that he got away with his life. Instead, he wishes every moment that Bolin hadn’t stopped him from jumping after them.   
Mako can’t even meet his brother’s eyes.   
Their days are passed in silence and he knows that Bolin longs to get out of the apartment and look for Asami. When the patrols have slackened off a bit, he asks Mako if he wants to come with him, and takes his silence for a no.   
He returns that evening not with Asami, but with Pema.   
Her eyes are red rimmed and her tunic is filthy. Mako thinks that they’ve probably been sleeping in alleyways or under bridges, wherever the Equalists won’t find them. In her arms she holds her newborn, and both Ikki and Meelo cling to her skirts. With a pang, he notices that Ikki is clutching Korra’s coat, hugging it to her body. He averts his eyes and lets Bolin do all the talking.   
“They’re still out there,” Pema repeats, over and over, so much that Mako feels ill, “I would know if they were dead.”  
Mako wants to grab her shoulders and shake her, and tell her that they’re dead and that they’re not coming back, not now, not ever. She wasn’t there. She didn’t know. He wants to tell her helpless Tenzin had looked, bending gone, as they had been tossed over the edge. He wants to tell her about Jinora’s screams and cries as they plummeted into darkness. He wants to tell her how Korra didn’t think twice about going after them, bending or no bending. He wants to tell her what it sounds like when bodies that you can’t see hit the ground.   
Mako doesn’t say anything.   
“You can stay here for now,” Bolin tells Pema, “We’ll help you find a place of your own, if you want. Somewhere that they won’t find you.”  
Pema bursts into tears, and quickly tries to regain her composure for the sake of her children. She throws her arms around Bolin, who holds her tight, like Mako used to hold him when they were kids. He strokes her hair and tells her that everything will be fine. Mako doesn’t know when his brother became such an accomplished liar.   
Ikki and Meelo play quietly in the corner, letting their mother sleep. It’s raining outside and Bolin is taking care of the baby, humming fragmented lullabies that Mako used to hear their mother sing. Mako picks up Korra’s coat from the ground. It’s dirty, some of the fur clumping together, but he kneads his fingers in it. He wants nothing more than to bury his face in it, and drink in whatever scent of her is left in it.   
“You know,” Bolin says, breaking off his lullaby for a moment, “It’s alright to miss her. No one will think any less of you for crying.”  
Mako drops the coat on the floor, and walks outside without responding to his brother. He bangs the door shut behind him and steps out into the rain. It’s so cold that he’s surprised that it isn’t snowing, each drop of water stinging his skin as he makes his way down the street. The rain soaks him in under a minute, but he keeps going, moving towards the waterfront. It’s the first time that he’s made his way down there by streets, rather than over rooftops, but he isn’t worried about Equalists. In fact, he’d rather like to meet one, or five. He could kill them all, every last one; he’s sure of it.   
The storm has scared most of the Equalists away from the waterfront, leaving the piers and docks empty. Mako strides confidently down one pier, raised above the water, rocking beneath his feet. The storm is raging all around him, drilling him with rain, water spraying up from the bay below him. Waves are breaking below him, crashing with divine force and Mako wonders if the pier will collapse.   
The bay is dark, except for the lights of one boat, anchored offshore, riding out the storm. It’s so dark that he can’t make out the islands in the middle of it until there’s a flash of lighting, and the statue of Avatar Aang is illuminated in an unearthly glow for a split second, and then all is dark again. Thunder rumbles, low and powerful. Mako screams into the storm.   
“Why?!” he cries out, his first words since everything had happened, screaming as if the water can give him an answer, “Why?!”  
He sinks to his knees, fingers scraping at the wood. He’s so close to the edge of the pier, and the waves call up to him. He wants nothing more than to just lay down and sleep, letting the water wash him away, bit by bit until there’s nothing left of him anymore.   
The water is rising to claim him for its own, to wrap him up and take him away in its frigid grasp. He is resigned to it, is welcoming it, even, when suddenly the arms around him are no longer icy, but warm and strong. They encircle him, fold around him, pulling him close.   
“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing,” comes Bolin’s voice from behind him, hot with fury, “But I’ll be damned if I stand by and let you do it!”   
His arms tighten around Mako, pulling him up to his feet, spinning him around so that they’re face to face.   
Bolin searches Mako’s face for an explanation, but stops because he already knows why. Of course he knows why. He wraps his arms around his older brother, hugging him as if loosening his grip meant that Mako would slip away forever.   
“I know that you’re angry,” Bolin says, “And I know that you’re sad and confused and that you miss her, and that you love her. But this, this isn’t doing anyone any favors, other than Amon. If you do this, then he wins. Then Tenzin and Jinora are gone for nothing. You’ve lost Korra’s fight.”  
Mako is crying now, his whole body shaking with the force of his sobs, and his little brother only holds him tighter.   
“I know that it seems hopeless,” Bolin tells him, “But it’s not. You can’t give into despair. Hope is something that you give yourself, isn’t that what you always told me?”  
The rain is still pounding down, the waves still breaking angrily below them. There’s something about those words, words that his mother learned from the history books, about the darkest of times and getting through them, that calms him down. Mako takes a deep breath, letting his vision uncloud, letting his head clear. His brother is looking at him, waiting for him to say something. It’s one of those times he wishes that he were better with words, that he could explain everything, apologizing for what he’s done. But he’s no good at it; he was always better at telling his little brother that everything would be alright, than he was at admitting that he needed help.  
“Yeah,” is all he says, “It is.”  
“Let’s go home,” Bolin says, releasing Mako from his grip.   
They walk back down the pier, heading home, and although it’ll never really be that for Mako, it’s somewhere warm that they can dry off and sleep, waiting for the rain to stop.


End file.
